The Fiancee
by Fire Gemron
Summary: Ahlia, the Dragonborn, has found herself in a predicament - find a fake fiancee to present to her mother, or get married off to the highest bidder. She makes a deal with a redheaded thief: he pretends to be her lover, and she'll help him steal something from the Blue Palace. Except things never go as planned, do they? *rated just to be safe in later chapters*
1. Chapter 1

_Okay, I'm starting this because I've played with this idea for a really long time. I'm going to keep working on my other Skyrim story, don't worry. This is just something fun, too. I hope you guys like it._

_I own nothing._

Ahlia frowned down at the parchment. "This is really getting ridiculous now," she grumbled to herself.

She glared into the polished metal surface of a nearby mirror. She was a young woman of Breton descent, giving her a slight appearance. Her features were soft, gentle, almost childish with the set of her wide eyes and the curve of her cheeks. Her hair was a dark blonde, and cut fairly short. Some of the longer strands fell onto her forehead, but many seemed to prefer sticking straight up. Her eyes were dark, and framed by equally dark lashes. She was pretty, even she had to admit, not that being pretty did her much good.

At one time, Ahlia had been the Dovahkiin, the slayer of dragons, but those days had passed with the death of the world eater. Now, it felt more like she was a trophy than a person, something for court nobles to parade around in front of their populace.

And something for her mother to try to wed off.

Ever since she had returned from the Throat of the World, following the death of Anduin, her mother had been trying to get her to marry the richest man (and occasionally woman) she could find. Ahlia knew it was because her mother wanted some of that money for herself, wanted rich children to take care of her. They had never been particularly close, so Ahlia held no delusions that her mother might be doing this for her sake. It had gotten so bad that in her last letter, Ahlia had told her mother that she was in love an intending to marry a man she had met during her adventures. And that was what brought her to the awful letter currently sitting on her table.

Her mother was coming to Solitude. She wanted to see this betrothed for herself. To "welcome him into the family" as she put it, but Ahlia figured her mother was more planning to scare him off and push some other suitor on her than welcome him. So her least favorite relative was coming to her home in her least favorite city to run out her lover and try to force her to marry some rich fop that only wanted her to be his trophy for eternity. As if that wasn't bad enough, there was one further complication:

There was no lover from her adventures. It had been a lie.

Ahlia ran a hand through her hair, causing it to stick up even more than before, and looked out her bedroom window. She was currently staying at Proudspire Manor, her home in Solitude. She had been planning to only stay a short while before leaving again for one of the cities she liked better. They treated her like some kind of doll in Solitude. The members of the court hassled her to wear dresses and cosmetics, and the bards constantly bothered her for stories they could turn into songs. She never got a moments peace, but she had been fulfilling a bounty in the area and had desperately wanted to sleep in a bed. The letter – that cursed thing – had been waiting on the table outside her bedroom when she had arrived. She snatched it up and began reading it again as she left her room and headed downstairs.

Jordis, her housecarl, was sitting at a bench on the first floor. She looked up as Ahlia came down the stairs and waived the letter at her. "When did this come again?"

"I'm sorry my Thane, it arrived several weeks ago. I didn't know how to get a hold of you to get it to you," the swordswoman answered.

Ahlia frowned. "It's alright. Can you guess what day exactly?"

"Um... The second of Second Seed, I believe. Is everything alright my Thane?"

"Damn," Ahlia swore. It took her a moment to realize Jordis had asked her a question "Huh? Yes, everything is fine." She frowned down at the letter. Her mother would be coming in early Mid Year. That meant she could be there any day. And Ahlia had no fiancee. She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes wearily. "Jordis, I will be in town for a while, but I will be having company. Would it be possible for you to stay out of the house? At the Blue Palace perhaps?" She didn't want the housecarl around if things were to get too messy, they didn't know each other well enough for her to feel comfortable with it.

"Of course, my Thane, I'll make the necessary preparations."

While Jordis left to do just that, Ahlia picked up her bow and arrows. She needed to clear her head.

It was after sunset when she finally came back. There seemed to be something going on near the Palace, and there was an uneasy feeling in the streets, but she did not to let it bother her. That's what the Palace employed guards for, after all. She strolled up to her home, and decided to go around the back, and up on to the porch to enjoy the evening breeze coming off the sea before going inside. She had not managed to think up any way out of her current problem during her time out hunting. She passed under the stone archway separating the front of her house from the back, and some sense made her tense. In a moment, she had an arrow fitted onto her bowstring. In the darkest shadows next to the stairway, something moved.

"Heh, can't sneak past you, can I, lass," a deep voice called out to her. She could make out the form of a fairly large man in the gloom that gathered where the staircase met the wall, but not much else.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You know, I'm much more inclined to talk when I don't have an arrow aimed at my chest," the voice drawled.

"I'm much more inclined to shoot trespassers than to talk to them," Ahlia answered.

The man laughed quietly. "Fair enough."

"Are you the one that all of that fuss is about?" she asked, tilting her head in the direction of the Blue Palace.

"It's a possibility."

Slowly, she lowered her bow, easing the bowstring forward. "Alright, come out and give me your name."

The man that stepped from the shadows was tall, and his broad shoulders gave him away as a Nord. He was dressed entirely in dark, soft leather armor, with a sword and a knife sheathed at his hip. His skin was fair, and his hair was long and dark. He had facial hair, a thin, light scar that curved down one cheek, and pale eyes – she couldn't determine their exact color in the dark. The man was obviously a thief from his attire, but he was also very handsome. "My name is Brynjolf."

An idea stirred in her mind. She had previously had dealings with the Thieves Guild, and really had no problem with them, as long as they weren't stealing from her. They didn't kill anyone, and, for the most part, didn't target people who couldn't stand to lose a little, so she had little moral qualms with them. Perhaps, there was even a way they could both help each other...


	2. Chapter 2

_Just a short quick update. I want to thank everyone who reviewed. Next chapter things will start getting fun. _

_Still own nothing_

Brynjolf shifted his weight to one leg, watching the young woman as she considered him. What was going through that pretty little head, he wondered. She didn't remove her arrow from the string of her bow. They eyed each other through the dark. He took the time to study her as he would a mark. She was pretty, but there was a hardness to her. She was the kind of person to prefer fighting to any kind of human interaction, he would bet. There was an intelligence in her eyes that interested him. She would be fun to fluster and play with. He smirked.

Seeing the smirk on Brynjolf's face, the woman tilted her head to one side. "Did you get what you came for?"

His mirth nearly faltered as he thought of the expensive piece of jewelry that he had been sent specifically for. He couldn't return to the Thieves Guild empty handed, especially when his target would bring in so much money for them. "Not exactly."

The woman took her eyes off him for the first time, glancing off toward the cries of guards looking for him. "It will be hard to get into there now. Not to mention find somewhere to hide."

"Where are you going with this, lass?" he asked, leaning against the half wall of the stairs beside with him.

"I'll help you," she said, turning her dark eyes back to him. "But you have to help me, too."

It would be a lie to say he wasn't interested in her proposition. What kind of help did the girl need? The sound of the guards' searching was coming closer. He was certain that he could have managed to get away, but it certainly would be more convenient to stay in the city, and the woman's home was in an affluent area, so it was certainly possible she could help him with his quarry.

"Do we have a deal?" the woman insisted.

He glanced toward the street, listening to the sounds coming closer. "Fine. We have a deal, lass."

She smirked slightly and put her arrow away. She opened her mouth to say something to him, but was cut off from a voice coming from the street. "Milady? Is everything alright?" From where he was standing, Brynjolf couldn't see the man, but he could hear the faint clatter of armor. It was a guard, looking for him, he assumed.

The woman turned quickly, and gave the guard a nod. "Yes, everything's fine. I was hunting and returned a little later than I wanted. What's going on at the Palace?"

"There is a thief sneaking around the town. You should stay inside until he's been caught, milady. The brute is surely dangerous," the guard said, mostly dodging her direct question. Brynjolf frowned at being called a brute.

"Thank you for your concern," the woman said, her voice slightly forced. "I will be safe, I promise." With a polite smile, she turned and stepped closer to the stairs. She gave Brynjolf a sharp look and hissed "Inside. Now."

He turned and glanced up the short staircase to see a wooden door at the top. Quickly, he jumped over the wall onto the staircase, and led the way into the house.

The door led into a short hallway, with a staircase leading both up and down to the right. A main room was at the left at the end of the hall, with a kitchen leading off from that. The woman slipped passed him and went into the kitchen, with Brynjolf trailing behind. There was a fire still burning in the kitchen hearth, with a pot over it, so he assumed either the woman hadn't been gone long, or someone else lived there. Once they were both in the kitchen, she turned to him.

"Alright, I'm going to make this clear from the beginning. My name is Ahlia. I am the Dragonborn. If you decide not to honor our agreement, it will cause problems for me, so I would prefer if you didn't. If you try to steal from me, or hurt anyone who is staying in this house, rest assured that I can and will kill you, even if I appear unarmed," she said.

Brynjolf raised his eyebrows. "Are you trying to frighten me or flirt with me, lass?"

The woman blushed a little, and murmured "Funny you should mention that. My mother is trying to marry me off to some rich person I don't even know, least of all want to marry. To stop her, I told her that I had a man that I was going to marry, but now she wants to come and meet him."

"And you lied, didn't you, lass?" Brynjolf smirked, leaning against the kitchen wall.

"Yes," Ahlia said hesitantly.

"So now, in return for helping me steal from the Blue Palace, you want me to pretend to be your lover?" He was grinning now, finding all of this very amusing.

The Dragonborn was looking pointedly at the floor, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yes."

"A deal is a deal, so I'll help you," he chuckled. "When is your mother going to be here?"

"Any day. I know it's not much time, which is why you'll have to do," Ahlia said, almost more talking to herself than him.

Brynjolf's eyebrows nearly joined his hairline, as he watched the Dragonborn start out of the room. "Come on, I suppose we have a lot to talk about," she said over her shoulder. He just stood and watched her for a moment. Never in his life had a woman told him he would "have to do." He would show the lass just how well he could do.

A smirk stretched across his face. This was going to be fun.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey guys, sorry it's taken so long. We adopted a couple of kittens and things have been a little hectic, since one of them has a cold. As I write, my sick little girl is curled up on my chest, so I guess she can be the mascot of this chapter._

_Thank you all so much for the follows, faves and reviews. I really cannot even begin to tell you how much they mean to me, and how they keep me going with these stories. _

_I own nothing. _

Ahlia sat down heavily at the table outside her room. She had found, and blackmailed, a very attractive thief to pretend to be her lover. The crisis was adverted, and everything would be fine. After her mother came, saw Brynjolf and left, her life would go back to normal. The man in question had come up the stairs behind her and sat down across from her, quietly. Jordis had left some bread and apples out for her for supper, along with the stew downstairs that she had forgotten in her haste to leave the kitchen. She eyed him across the table. In the light of the lit candles and lanterns of her home, she could see now that his hair was a dark auburn, and his eyes a deep green. The man made her feel claustrophobic somehow. She felt ridiculous. She had faced down dragons, but a handsome man managed to make her nervous.

Brynjolf picked up one of the apples off the table, and tossed it casually back and forth between his hands while he studied her. "So how easily do you think this will be to pull off?"

"Fooling my mother?" Ahlia asked, reaching out to pick up an apple of her own. He nodded. "Not very. She's quite smart, and very…tenacious when money is involved. If she thinks this isn't real, she'll just push her choice on me. Whether she believes we're together or not, she's going to do everything she can to drive you off. "

"Why don't you just tell her no?" he asked.

"I can't. It's complicated, but in the nobility of our culture, she has the authority to make me marry whoever she chooses, unless I'm either already married, or I can convince her not to," Ahlia grumbled.

"Well, I guess in that case, we should probably practice," Brynjolf said, feigning disinterest.

Ahlia's head snapped around to him, her own apple falling onto the table with a clatter. "Excuse me?"

He chuckled. "If we're going to convince anyone that we're lovers, we have to know each other pretty well, right? And we have to be comfortable with each other."

"I can act comfortable," she argued.

Brynjolf raised one eyebrow at her, smirking. "Like you are now, right?" He motioned with one hand to her ridged posture, and flushed face.

"Fuck off," she snarled. He laughed heartily.

"Come on, lass. Surely you're not afraid of being touched by a man, right, Dragonborn?"

Ahlia scrunched her eyes closed, trying desperately to ignore the logic in his statements. Why hadn't she thought of that earlier? The truth was she hadn't been with a man since she was a girl back in High Rock. They had both been inexperienced, and it hadn't been the greatest night of her life. It only had gotten worse when the boy, who she had fallen in love with like girls coming of age were prone to do, had left in the morning, wanting nothing more from her than a fumbling night together.

She was pulled from her thoughts by a light tap on her arm. Brynjolf held her discarded apple out to her. "Let's start with getting to know each other, and work on being physically comfortable later, lass."

"Have you ever done anything like this before?" she asked, trying not to show how anxious and sheepish she felt.

"I can honestly say I've never posed as someone's lover before."

Ahlia smiled a little. "Tell me about yourself, then."

He leaned back in his chair and bit into his apple. "I'm a thief. I work for the Thieves Guild in Riften. I enjoy stealing things."

Ahlia couldn't help but laugh at him, and he grinned in return. "Well, I can hardly tell my mother that, can I?"

"Hm, I own a stall in the market in Riften, specializing in exotic goods," he offered.

"Are they fakes?"

"Of course they are."

"Of course they are," she echoed with a soft laugh.

They spent the next several hours trading stories from their individual adventures. Brynjolf told her about some of his more exciting heists, including the time he escaped the Windhelm prisons just to prove he could. Ahlia told him about hunting dragons, and her penchant for treasure hunting in old temples. At some point during the evening, Brynjolf got them stew from the kitchen, removing the pot from the fire so it wouldn't burn. He explained to her the guild's current streak of bad luck, and how he was hoping his current target would prove that it was just that: bad luck, not some kind of curse.

"Of course," he said, running a hand through his hair, "I need to get the item before I can use it to prove there's no curse."

"What are you going after exactly?" Ahlia asked, taking a drink of mead from her tankard.

Brynjolf took a long drink of his own before he answered. "A circlet that once belonged to High King Torygg."

Ahlia whistled lowly. "No wonder they're so upset."

He hummed quietly. Draining the last of his tankard, he sat forward. "Well, lass, I think we've come to know each other a little better. I think it may be time to work on the second part of your plan." Ahlia's stomach knotted. Her anxiety must have shown on her face because Brynjolf laughed. "Come on, I'm not going to hurt you. You think I'm going to throw away the kind of help the Dragonborn can give me?"

Ahlia made a face, and scrunched her eyes shut. She still barely knew him, and was nervous. Thoughts of her mother, and what kind of horrible person she had brought for her made the Dragonborn force herself out of her chair. She took a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to practice being intimate with him so close to her bedroom. It was an irrational thought, perhaps, but it was suddenly very important that they get away from her room. "I'll show you where you'll be staying, we can practice down there if you want," she said.

Brynjolf watched her walk stiffly toward the stairs with a amused smile. "If that's what you want."

He followed her down the stone staircase, smirking the whole time. At the bottom of the stairs, he reached out and caught a hold of Ahlia's arm, pulling her back against his broad chest. She tensed, wrenching her arm back to rake her nails across his eyes. He caught her arm, and crushed it to her side. He was too strong for her. "Easy, lass," he murmured, his lips close to her ear.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Just practicing," he answered quietly.

The woman made an irritated noise, her stomach twisting nervously. Brynjolf chuckled lowly. He ran his hand up her arm, rubbing his thumb over her shoulder, before running his hand down again. His larger frame seemed to dwarf hers. She had never felt so small. It rather frightened her how soothing his warm embrace was. Brynjolf traced his fingers over her shoulder. She could feel his warm breath against her neck. She squirmed, the intimacy getting to be a little too much for her.

Brynjolf released her, and tilted his head to one side, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. "What are you going to do when we have to kiss, lass?"

Her cheeks were warm as she turned to face him."Kiss?" she echoed.

"Aye. That is what lovers do, after all."

Ahlia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Divines help me."

Brynjolf chuckled quietly and reached out to place a hand on her shoulder. "This was your plan, but we'll take it slow."

She was quiet for a long moment, watching him through the flickering dark of the basement hallway. He seemed sincere, and that kindness both surprised and touched her. She really didn't know how to handle this man. She settled for a safe shield of sarcasm. "A thief and a gentleman? I must have gotten very lucky."

The red head gave her a wolfish grin. "You have no idea, lass."

Ahlia blushed darkly, and spun away from him. "You can stay down here for the night, just don't mess with my alchemy equipment." She motioned to an open room to the right, flanked by a few mannequins decked out in some of her old armor. There were a few racks of old weapons, as well, but the room was mostly empty. The alchemy room was across from it, and had a large circular fire pit in the center that threw light into the armory. "I'll bring you some blankets and things to sleep on."

Brynjolf was looking around the corner of the alchemy room, taking in the door on the far side that led out to the street, before looking around the armory. "What, I don't get to stay with you?"

"No," she said flatly. There was only so much trouble he could get into down there, so Ahlia left him, heading back up to Jordis' room where there were extra blankets and furs. She couldn't help but think about what Brynjolf had said about having to kiss. Would such a thing really be so b ad?he was attractive and charming.

"I doubt I'd be very good at it," she muttered, piling all of the blankets into her arms. Balancing carefully, she added a few furs to the growing pile. It took some effort to juggle them all and bring them back down the stone staircase. She reached the bottom step, chewing on her lip as she continued to think about it.

"So about that -" Several of the blankets were taken out of her arms, and she looked up a little startled. She hadn't expected Brynjolf to be waiting for her. He raised an eyebrow, but the corner of his mouth was quirked upward in a knowing smile.

"About what?"

"Never mind."

Smirking to himself, Brynjolf placed the blankets he was holding on the floor, then took the rest from Ahlia. "I think I can handle this myself, lass." He leaned down and pressed a light kiss on the top of her head before disappearing into the armory.


	4. Chapter 4

_Yay, plot! _

_I own nothing. Sadly. _

Ahlia found it hard to sleep that night, thinking of the red haired thief in her basement. She had a lot riding on his help. Ever since she had left HighRock, she had face every problem and settled every argument with a blade in her hands and magic at her fingers. This was one confrontation she couldn't fight her way out of, and the thought of it made her restless. She tossed and turned most of the night, only to fall asleep near dawn, and waking to nightmares about dragons. The sun was well up when she decided to drag herself out of bed and get on with her day – not that she had much to do that day, aside from "practicing" with Brynjolf and perhaps helping him with his task. She would have to take him into town and buy some clothes that her mother would approve of, as well. She couldn't have them meeting with him wearing leather thieves' armor. She'd go to Radiant Rainment as soon as she had eaten and he was awake.

She staggered down the cold stone stairs and into the kitchen, stopping short in the doorway. The fire had been rebuilt, and what smelled like sweet porridge was cooking in a pot over the flames. Her house guest was nowhere to be found. Moving the porridge a little away from the fire so it wouldn't burn, she set out to find him. After checking the basement and ground floor, she finally stepped out onto the porch off the side of her house where she had met him last night.

Brynjolf leaned against the waist-high stone wall, looking out over the sea below. He glanced up at Ahlia ask she came close. "Riften is on the water," he commented, turning his attention back to the waves.

"I know, I've been there a few times in my travels." She leaned her hip against the wall and folded her arms across her chest.

"I'm surprised we never saw each other," Brynjolf smirked.

"Tell me honestly, if you didn't know I was Dragonborn, would you have ever paid attention to me? Had we met differently, of course," Ahlia asked. She was aware that she was not the most beautiful or the flashiest woman in Skyrim, with her short hair and comfortable – not fashionable – clothes.

His green eyes met hers. "Of course I would, lass. I make it a point to take note of all possible marks," he finished with a wolfish grin. Ahlia rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for ruining what could have been a nice sentiment," she scoffed. Brynjolf only chuckled. "And thank you for making breakfast," she added, more sincerely.

Brynjolf waved her comment off. "I got hungry's all. What's on the agenda for today?" He rested his chin in one palm and watched her as he spoke.

"Shopping, I think, then I don't know. More of what we did last night, I guess." He began to grin and Ahlia wrinkled her nose at him, thinking how that would have sounded to anyone listening.

The thief pushed away from the wall and walked back into the house, giving Ahlia a wink as he passed. She sighed and followed. They ate breakfast in the kitchen and made small talk. By the time they finished, it was midmorning, and the shops were sure to be open. Ahlia cleaned up the kitchen a little, then retrieved her purse and a sharp knife from her room. Even if they were only going across town, she wanted to be armed. Just in case. Typically, she wore her sword on her at all times, but the people in Solitude frowned on that. They wanted their "hero" to be graceful and ladylike.

Because grace was most certainly what killed Anduin, after all.

Brynjolf was waiting for her when she came down the stairs, and made no comment about the dagger on her hip. She led the way out of the house, locking the door behind them.

"Don't wander off," she warned him.

"Aye, lass," he said good-naturedly. She berated herself for being so gruff. He had been going along with this absurd plan with no trouble, after all. The least she could do is be kind to him.

By the time they had reached Radiant Rainment, a few people had already seen them together and began whispering behind their backs. Ahlia was irked, but brushed it off. That was just the kind of place Solitude was. Taarie, the Altmer owner of the clothing store, was standing behind the counter when they entered. She looked both Ahlia and Brynjolf up and down, sneering a little.

"Come to purchase something more fitting of your station, milady?" she asked. The shopkeeper didn't mean to be insulting, Ahlia knew, she just meant to be honest with her opinions. That was the only reason the Dragonborn didn't snap at her or, worse, Thu'um her. Her mood was dark enough, she might have done it if she got irritated enough.

"I like my clothing, Taarie," she started, her tone a little strained. "But I do need something a little more impressive for both myself and my companion, and yours is the only shop in town I would trust with that."

The combination of the compliment and Ahlia practically admitting she was right made Taarie a little less sharp. She even gave a slight smile as she turned to the wardrobe behind her. Brynjolf was busy looking around the store, a little too interested in some of the more valuable items. Ahlia elbowed him in the ribs, earning a slight frown. "I do have something that would fit you quite well," Taarie said finally, pulling out a long dress and a tunic. The dress was a soft goldenrod color. The tunic was cream, and would reach well below her knees. It was embroidered in gold and red thread around the edges and collar. Ahlia touched the tunic, examining the stitches. They were small and precise, and the fabric was soft. She smiled.

"As perfect as always."

"I know," Taarie replied. She looked at Brynjolf for a long moment, then turned to a chest behind the counter. From it she pulled a pair of grey pants, soft black leather boots, a fine tunic of a brilliant emerald green trimmed in grey. Placing those on the counter distractedly, she searched through a few other chests before finally pulling out a beautiful cloak made from silver fur scattered with irregular black spots. Ahlia touched it, the fur was incredibly soft – saber cat fur. The cloak was secured by a gold chain stretched between two large gold broaches.

Ahlia considered the clothes for a moment, estimating their worth. Taking her purse from her belt, she poured some gold coins out into her hand, then handed the purse over to Taarie. The shop keeper weighted the purse in her hand for a moment, then smiled. "Pleasure doing business with you, milady."

Tucking the remaining gold into a pocket in her tunic, Ahlia reached to grab the clothing, but Brynjolf picked them up first. He gave Taarie a charming smile and headed out. _The flirt,_ Ahlia thought as she followed him out into the warm sunshine.

They stopped at a few stalls near the residential area to pick up food. Brynjolf was a surprisingly good companion, making quiet comments to her about some of his own visits to the city. He knew quite a lot about the secrets of Solitude's inhabitants, and even told her a story about a heist he had pulled by pretending to be a member of the Bard's college. He went to great lengths to convince her how horrible his lute playing was. They finally reached the house again, and Ahlia was actually in a better mood than she had been in since she first got the letter from her mother.

"I'm going to warm some water for a bath," she called to Brynjolf as she put their groceries in the kitchen. "Let's see how well you clean up."

"Are you going to help me with that too, lass?" he teased

Ahlia wrinkled her nose for a moment and shook her head. "Hmm, good try, but no." She filled a large cooking pot with water and hauled it downstairs. Brynjolf followed behind her, carryng his new clothing.

In a corner of the basement was a large wooden tub. Ahlia set the pot near the alchemy fire place and went to pull the tub out. Sitting next to it were four large, covered jars. Peering inside one, she found they were full of clear, clean water. She smiled. Jordis took care of her even when she wasn't there.

"Give me a hand with this," she called to Brynjolf.

He had set his new clothes in the armory and came up behind her. Pulling the tub into the light of the fire, he easily hefted one of the water jars and poured it into the tub. Two jars almost completely filled the tub, and once the water in the pot was boiling, they added that too, to warm the bath.

Confidant that he could handle bathing himself, Ahlia left. Throwing her new clothes onto her bed, she washed her face in a wash basin. Going out onto the landing outside her room, she sank down into a chair and grabbed a small bottle of ale. There was no real reason to worry so much about her mother's visit as there wasn't much else she could do to prepare. Keeping her end of the bargain with Brynjolf was a little trickier. She knew Elisif fairly well, so getting into the Palace would not be hard, but could she betray the Jarl's trust by taking a momento from her late husband? True, Ahlia was not always fond of Solitude or its nobles, but she had nothing against Elisif.

At the same time, she had no real loyalty to Elisif, either.

She knew there was a side stairway that would lead up to the hall Elisif's room was off of. But would the circlet be there? It would be no problem for her to waltz around the Blue Palace, but it would be much more difficult getting Brynjolf in there. Maybe she could just take the circlet herself.

Her musing was interrupted when her guest appeared at the top of the stairs. Ahlia stared at him for a moment. His long hair was dark with water. What little dirt had stained the skin of his face had been washed off, leaving him looking even more fair than the last time she saw him. He wore the new clothes they had bought, and they fit him well. The fur cloak exaggerated the broadness of his shoulders, while the cut of the tunic and pants showed off his narrow waist and hips. The colors looked fantastic on him. She flushed. Gods, he was a handsome man.

"Well, lass, think these will work?" he smirked, stretching his arms out.

Ahlia tried her best to stay nonchalant. "It'll work." A grin stretched across his face, and she realized she had failed in her attempts.

Brynjolf sat down across from her, and placed his large hands over hers. She resisted the urge to pull away nervously. His hands were warm, and lightly calloused, and the feeling of them holding her own hands was not all that unpleasant. "Relax," he said lowly.

"I was just trying to think of the best way to get your item," she answered.

"I appreciate that, lass," he smiled.

A sharp knock on the door downstairs cut their conversation off. Ahlia's eyes grew wide, her heart racing. Brynjolf squeezed her hands gently, then stood. The Dragonborn slipped past him and started down the stone steps. More knocks sounded through her home, impatient. She stopped in front of the door, with her partner in crime at her back and took a deep breath before pulling the door open.

On the porch stood her mother, a small, severe woman with graying light brown hair, and a cold brown eyes. Behind her was a man Ahlia had never expected, nor wanted, to see ever again.

Thonar Silver-Blood.


End file.
